


Multifandom Ficlets II

by crushing83



Series: Snippets and Prompts [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Bitten (TV), Criminal Minds, Fast and the Furious Series, Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015), NCIS, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit RPF, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Bard is a reiner, Cuddling, Dancing, Dom Bard, Dom Thranduil, Dom/Sub AU, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, First Dates, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Horseback Riding, I like the idea of Gibbs and Owen going way back, If anyone's interested i'll take prompts!, Is his brother's name Ian or Deckard? I don't know I haven't seen the movie yet, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Old Friendships, Owen meets Alan, Past Lives, Past lives?, Reincarnation, Rope Bondage, Slight Voyeurism, Spencer is a mutant, Suspension, Thranduil is a hunter jumper, Thranduil lives on Isla Nublar before InGen shows up, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, WIP, Werewolves, Work In Progress, ada thranduil, badly written accents, book shopping, doing research, escaping the undoing, first attempt at writing a new fandom, generally inspired by what I'm watching at the time, learning about raptors, no proof reading, oblique reference to character death, platonic play, platonic-ish play, really the survivors of those islands should get together and form a little pack, safety words, that could be a thing right?, the promise of a good flogging, unrequited feelings, wibbly-wobbly timelines, younger Legolas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of my <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/543064">previous collection</a>. Generally influenced by what I'm watching or reading at the time. Bits and pieces without a home (but I might consider flushing one or two of these out if any inspiration strikes). </p><p>Like in the previous collection, I will try to keep pairings and fandoms and ratings listed in each chapter title to make browsing easier. You can look at the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3457838/navigate">chapter index</a> to see if there's anything you'd like to read.</p><p>Most recent addition: A peak in the private playroom... (The Hobbit RPF, Lee Pace/Luke Evans + OFC, M)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daydreamer (Arrow, Oliver/Felicity, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, he loses his train of thought and finds himself struck dumb by his imagination...

Sometimes, he loses his train of thought and finds himself struck dumb by his imagination. 

Felicity. Naked. Cheeks flushed. Lips swollen. Whispering his name. 

"Oliver... earth to Oliver." 

He snaps his head up and sees the object of his fantasy looking at him curiously. He feels his cheeks warm a bit. 

"Hey, Felicity. Sorry... I was..."

"Distracted?" she asks. When he nods, she smiles. "Happens to the best of us."

He smiles and shrugs. She pats his shoulder and continues on to her computer. He watches her walk away, eyes trailing down her body, before he gives himself a mental shake and returns his focus to his coffee and tablet.


	2. The sound of your voice is a welcome distraction (Criminal Minds/X-Men, Spencer Reid, Logan (X-Men), G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the sound of a familiar, friendly voice is enough to pull him back from the abyss that the BAU's cases invite.

"Hey."

At the sound of the other man's greeting, Spencer let out a long, low sigh tinged with a bit of a whimper. 

"Bad case?"

"Yeah. Kids," the profiler explained briefly. He knew it would be enough to get his point across. 

"Whaddya need?"

"Just... talk to me. About anything," Spencer requested. "I'm on my way home, I just need a distraction."

After a snort, the man spoke. He talked about his day (even the boring bits), the trouble some of the students had gotten into (a prank they pulled on Scott had not been appreciated by their intended target), and the last mission he'd gone on (surveilling the latest anti-mutant activist group). By the time he had run out of things to say---and had said more in those few minutes than he had in the last week, probably---Spencer was inside his home and feeling a bit more balanced. 

"You gonna be alright, kid?" 

"Yeah."

"You got some time off coming?"

Spencer thought about it. "Nothing planned, but I have some time saved. Why?"

"Come up for a visit."

"I... well, yeah, I could, but last time---"

"Anyone who *matters* is fine with you bein' a fed." 

The profiler sighed. "Yeah... I know."

"Don't make me drive down there and kidnap you." 

Spencer smiled. "I wouldn't make it easy on you."

"Kid, tracking you would be a piece of cake."

"Wanna bet?"

The older man chuckled. "A homemade meal. Anything the winner wants."

"I'll take that action," Spencer agreed. "I'll let you know when I'm off duty." 

"Sounds like a plan."

Spencer smiled. "Alright then. I'll call when I know. And... Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."


	3. On Leave (Criminal Minds/X-Men, Spencer Reid/Logan/Remy LeBeau, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer's lovers come to visit when he's on leave.

He'd had time for a shower before the knocking on his door started---but only barely. Grumbling a little under his breath about pushy Cajuns, he tugged on a pair of pajama pants and shuffled to his front door. 

"Pup, open the door."

And pushy Canadians, too, Spencer mentally grouched. 

He opened the door and saw both of his lovers standing there. it had been a rough day, a rough case, and even though he was a little annoyed that they couldn't give him a day of his leave to decompress on his own, he was still smiling at the sight of them. 

"Hey, _cher_ ," Remy murmured. 

"You guys didn't waste any time," Spencer commented. He stepped aside and gestured to them to come inside. "Or were you already on your way when I called?"

Logan's lips twitched into a little smirk. He tugged Spencer close and kissed him firmly. "We were in town on business," he explained briefly. "How are ya?"

"Fine," he lied. 

Logan knew he was lying, but he didn't push it, and Spencer appreciated that. 

Remy closed the door and stepped in close to the other two men. He pressed a kiss to Spencer's temple. The young profiler made a quiet noise of appreciation. 

"Let's get ya sorted," Logan suggested. "Food, then bed."

"Did I order two nursemaids?" Spencer asked teasingly.

"How 'bout food in bed?" Remy asked, ignoring Spencer's comment.

"That was too messy," Spencer said, shaking his head. 

The thief's eyes lit up as he remembered the last time they got together, during which an ice cream treat turned into a sensual assault on Spencer's body. " _Non_ , dat was fun, _cher_." 

"And not happening tonight," Logan declared. "We've all had a long day. Fun can wait for tomorrow." 

Remy pouted. Spencer leaned over and kissed his lower lip. 

"Bed sounds good, though," Spencer admitted. "How long can you guys stay?" 

"How long you got off?" Remy asked.

"A week." 

"Us, too, then," Logan decided. He nudged Remy. "C'mon, Cajun. Let's get our boy to bed." 

Spencer would have bristled at being called a boy, but the idea of going to bed curled up with both men softened his annoyance. He waited for them to drop their bags on the floor before taking their hands and leading them to the bedroom. 

He might have been all-but-ordered to take the time off, but he knew, looking at his lovers, he'd definitely enjoy it anyway.


	4. Teasing (Criminal Minds/X-Men, Spencer Reid/Logan/Remy LeBeau, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan likes to watch them dance, even (or especially) if it riles him up.

Logan watched his boys (they were grown but they'd always be _his boys_ ) as they moved into the sea of people that filled the club. He took a long pull off his bottle of beer when Remy's hands molded to Spencer's hips and pulled the awkward genius into an easy rhythm against his own body. 

Damn, they looked good together. 

Remy smirked at Logan over Spencer's shoulder. He turned Spencer around so his back was to his chest and slid one of his hands up so it was resting over the profiler's heart. In response, Spencer tipped his head back against Remy's shoulder. Logan's eyes snapped to the exposure of that long, pale neck and his grip tightened on his bottle. 

Damn, he was _lucky_.

He felt the need to mark that expanse of flesh with his mouth, his teeth. He wanted everyone to know Spencer belonged to them (to him). 

Remy and Spencer were both looking at him, smirks on their faces as if they knew what he was thinking. They probably did, between knowing him as well as they did and their empathetic abilities, but at least they were enjoying that knowledge. 

Logan saw Remy say "C'mon, _cher_ " in Spencer's ear. Then he guided Spencer back to the bar where the feral was waiting for them. Logan shifted his weight and put the bottle on the bar's surface. 

When his two lovers were closer, Logan reached out and grabbed Spencer's hip. 

"Trying to rile me up?" he asked. 

Spencer grinned. "Why do you think I let Remy take me out there? To show off my stellar coordination?"

"Aw, I t'ink you look great out dere."

"Cajun's right," Logan said gruffly. He pulled Spencer close and kissed him. "You look damned good out there." 

Spencer blushed. "Thanks, but he deserves all the credit," he said with a gesture behind him. 

Logan grinned and tugged Remy close, too. After a quick but firm kiss, he growled out a teasing thanks and then started nudging them towards the exit. 

"Date night's over then?" Spencer asked. 

"Remy t'inks it's jus' beginning," Remy murmured.


	5. New Evidence (Criminal Minds/X-Men, Spencer Reid/Remy LeBeau, Aaron Hotchner, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron learns about Reid's private life.

Aaron looked up sharply when he heard a familiar voice. It was a familiar voice, but the tone was so different... so happy. 

He turned and glanced around the book shop. From his position in the back of the first aisle, where he'd been busy looking for a book that his son might enjoy reading with him, he could see a tall man with long, reddish brown hair who was wearing sunglasses, a leather trench coat over his clothes, and a big grin. He couldn't see Reid. 

Carefully, he moved around, until he was closer to the front of the aisle, and that was when he saw him. He, too, was wearing a grin and was gesticulating wildly with one hand and tugging on the other man's coat with the other. 

"I just want this one book, Remy, and then we can go," Reid said, laughter in his voice. "You dragged me into that store to try on every pair of jeans they owned so you can just---"

"Aw, _cher_ , it wasn' ev'ry pair! Just the ones I knew'd suit you."

The other man, Remy, was grinning and eying Reid's lower body. Reid rolled his eyes. 

"Knock it off. We're coming up for air, remember?" 

Aaron quickly ducked back into the aisle so he wouldn't be seen as Reid dragged his friend (lover?) further into the store. He made a quick decision and grabbed the three books that looked the most promising and made his way to the cashier's counter. Luckily, there was no line, so he was able to make his purchases and exit quickly. 

He fled the store clutching the bag in his hand---and trying to reconcile the new picture of Spencer Reid with what he thought he already knew.


	6. Healing with the Pack, I (Bitten/Criminal Minds, Jeremy Danvers, Antonio Sorrentino, Nick Sorrentino, Clayton Danvers, Elena Michaels, Aaron Hotchner, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack comes to help Aaron heal after Haley's death.

After the funeral, after Aaron had tucked Jack into bed, there was a knock on the door. Feeling protective of his son and their home, he sniffed the air. 

_Pack._

He opened the door and saw Jeremy first, Antonio second. The kids, as Aaron often thought of them, were behind them; Elena was sandwiched between Clay and Nick. 

"My condolences, Aaron," Jeremy said quietly. 

Antonio reached out and squeezed Aaron's upper arm. Aaron sighed and stepped aside; when they were in his foyer with the door closed again, Antonio moved in and gave him a warm hug before Jeremy took his place. 

"She wasn't pack but you loved her and she gave us your son," Jeremy whispered. "I am very sorry this happened to her, to you. To Jack." 

Aaron hugged his Alpha back. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to say anything. He'd fought for the right to keep Haley and Jack with him and Jeremy knew how important his family was and would always be. His Alpha also knew profound loss and felt emotions in a way akin to how Aaron processed his feelings. 

"Have you eaten?" Antonio asked. 

The profiler nodded into Jeremy's shoulder. 

"Come on," their Alpha murmured. "Go get ready for bed. We'll join you when you're ready." 

Aaron nodded. He pulled away from Jeremy's warmth and headed to his bedroom. 

He heard the pack murmuring amongst themselves---advising the younger ones on how to behave, talking quietly about the nature of Aaron's life and career, speculating on what Jack knew about the pack---but the words barely registered as he went through the motions of changing out of his suit and into something he could sleep in without looking like he was hiding his body (his scars) too much. 

Skin against skin was best, but he did not want the pack seeing his scars. 

He sat down in the bed once he'd tugged on a pair of sweat pants and tank top. He pulled off his socks and looked down at them in his hands. 

"Hey," a soft female voice said from the door. 

Aaron looked up and saw Elena. He smiled a bit. She was special and every male in the pack had a soft spot for her. He was no exception---even in the middle of his grief. 

"Did you get pulled away from school for this?" he asked. 

She smiled and shook her head. "Nope. I'm taking a break. Jeremy and Clay needed me back at Stonehaven." 

"Pack business?"

"Tracking mutts. Nothing we can't handle." 

He nodded. 

Elena patted the door frame gently. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm okay."

"That's not what I asked."

Aaron snorted. "I don't need anything, but thank you, Elena."

She smiled a bit, nodded, and came in to sit next to him on the bed. She put a hand on his back and rested her chin on his shoulder. 

"I'm not good at this, but I'm sorry for your loss," she whispered. 

He tilted his head towards hers until he was leaning against her. "Thank you." He paused and added: "I'm not good at this, either, so don't worry about it." 

Elena smiled. "The guys are checking your apartment, and they'll join us when they're sure the place is secure," she explained. 

"They think I haven't checked already?"

"Clay," she said, as if the name was enough of an explanation. 

Aaron smiled and nodded. 

Just as Elena said, the men showed up a few minutes later, looking satisfied and a bit more relaxed. Clay gave the bedroom window a serious looking over before taking up a post by the door. 

"We'll take turns watching," Nick explained. He reached out and squeezed Aaron's other shoulder. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I wanted to come for the funeral, but---"

"This is better," Aaron assured him. "My team was there." 

"I'm glad you weren't alone." 

Aaron nodded. Jeremy and Antonio were already mostly undressed and getting into bed. Their Alpha put his hand on Aaron's back and Elena wordlessly pulled away her arm. 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but soon Aaron was between the two men. Jeremy was in the middle of the bed, Antonio was closest to the door, and Aaron was protected in the middle. Elena undressed to a camisole and briefs. She stretched out next to Jeremy while Nick stripped down to his boxers (Aaron had been surprised he'd been wearing them at all, but hadn't commented on it). He curled up next to her, with their backs to the window. Clay closed the bedroom door and took the chair on the other side of the room as his own. 

"Are you comfortable?" Jeremy asked him quietly. 

"Yes, thank you," Aaron whispered. 

"You never used to mind---"

"It's been a while. Things change," he said evasively. 

"Scars?"

"If Jack needs me... I don't want him to see them," Aaron explained, only hitting on part of the truth. 

Jeremy nodded. "Alright, but I'd like to see them later if you're comfortable with that." 

Aaron didn't say anything, but he nodded. He knew he was dominant, but he wasn't in charge when he was in Jeremy's presence---a fact that annoyed him as much as it comforted him. 

He closed his eyes and drifted into that sense of comfort. His pack was there, they were keeping watch and offering support. They, like his team, would help him get through his grief.


	7. Distractions (Bitten (TV), Jeremy Danvers/OFC, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She appreciates his work; he appreciates her appreciation.

Jeremy looked up from his book and smiled when his companion for the night came into the room. 

"Sorry," she murmured. She blushed. "I got distracted by a painting in the hallway." 

He opened an arm to her; he felt a rush of warmth when she accepted the gesture and curled up at his side on the bed. He kissed her shoulder. 

"Which painting?"

"The one of the wolves running through the trees... at twilight," she replied. 

"Thank you."

"Hmm?"

He smiled into her skin. "I painted that," he explained. "I'm flattered that my work distracts you."

"That's not all of yours that distracts me," she murmured, a teasing tone in her voice. 

Jeremy chuckled. He set his book down and pulled her nearly-effortlessly into his lap. A quick tug caused her top's straps to tear, exposing her pale breasts to his gaze. He smirked up at her as he leaned in and drew one nipple into his mouth. 

She moaned quietly, briefly. Her hands came up and brushed through his hair. When she scratched, he nipped. She yelped and rocked her hips. 

He inhaled deeply. Her arousal had been present but low all evening, but at the feel of his dull teeth in her flesh it blossomed into the air. He bit back a predatory growl. He wanted to dive in and take her, but he knew it would be better if he ignored the distracting, enticing scent calling to both man and beast, so he reined his impulses in and set his mind to driving her wild with his tongue and teeth first.


	8. Healing with the Pack, II (Bitten/Criminal Minds, Jeremy Danvers, Antonio Sorrentino, Nick Sorrentino, Clayton Danvers, Elena Michaels, Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron with his pack; Jack meets his future packmates.

"You're okay. I think." 

Aaron awoke to hearing Jack's approval and Jeremy's quiet laughter. He tried to sit up, but Antonio's arm around his shoulders held him back. He sighed, yawned, and looked around. 

Their Alpha was kneeling on the floor by the bed. Jack was still in his pajamas. The pack was wearing more clothes than they had been earlier. It was still dark outside. 

It looked like Jack had woken up and come looking for him. Aaron felt a bit of embarrassment at the idea of his son catching him in bed with three men and a woman while another man observed them, but he knew that as Jack's lycanthropy manifested, he would understand. 

"May I call you Jack?"

"Why not?" Jack asked, seeming mildly perplexed by the possibility of being called something else. "Is Daddy okay?"

"Your Daddy's sad, but we came to look after the both of you," Jeremy explained. "We're family."

"Are you part of my family, too?" Jack asked. 

"We are," the Alpha replied. "Is that okay?"

Aaron didn't realise he'd been holding his breath until he'd seen Jack's response (a few sleepy nods) and reflexively exhaled. 

"We're going to stay for a few days if your dad lets us," Jeremy said, "so we'll be able to get to know each other." 

Aaron groaned. "I don't have nearly enough food in the fridge for that," he muttered. 

Antonio chuckled. Clay snorted. Jack yelped out a relieved and relatively happy "Daddy!"

"C'm'ere, you," Aaron insisted. He opened his arms and his son scrambled past Jeremy and over Nick before launching himself at Aaron's arms. "Hey buddy," he murmured gruffly as they embraced. "Have trouble sleeping?" 

"I had a dream 'bout Mommy," the boy admitted. He frowned briefly, but brightened after a moment: "Jer'my and 'lena let me in. I feel a li'l better now." 

"You want to stay here with us?"

"Yes, please." 

Aaron adjusted his son so he was curled up against his body. Jeremy returned to his spot, lying down next to Jack instead of Aaron. Elena was about to return to the chair, but Clay stopped her. They shared a quiet exchange and then she was joining Nick back in the bed in their earlier positions while Clay took the chair again. 

"Do you live far away, Jer'my?"

"We live in New York. In the country," Jeremy explained quietly. "Maybe some day your dad will take you up to visit."

"That sounds good," Jack decided before yawning widely. 

Aaron kissed the top of his son's head. "Maybe we will visit," he said quietly. "You'd like it there, buddy. Very safe. Lots to explore."

Jack gave a small, not-so-sad hum and wriggled for a minute before yawning again and closing his eyes. Aaron reached up and rubbed his fingers through his son's hair in soft, soothing strokes. 

"He's a remarkable child," Jeremy commented quietly. "You both raised him well. I see both of you in him."

"There's more of his mother than me, I'm afraid," Aaron admitted. He sighed and pressed a kiss onto Jack's head. "I am scared I won't be enough for him."

"You will be. You'll have the pack behind you," Antonio reminded him in a quiet voice full of emotion. "I went through the same thing with Nicky, you get used to that fear," he said. 

Jeremy reached out and squeezed Aaron's arm. "Don't worry. Not tonight," he advised.

Aaron felt a bit of Jeremy's power swell up around them. It wasn't in a threatening way, but in a soothing way, and even Jack reacted to the sensation by smiling in his sleepy state and reaching out for Jeremy's arm with one of his little hands. 

"I think you've got a fan," Aaron commented. 

Jeremy smiled. "The feeling is mutual," he replied.

With another slight push of his power, Jeremy guided Aaron back towards drowsiness. The profiler didn't fight it. He firmed his hold on his son and tried to block out the grief.


	9. Easing the Pain (Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid/?, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bad nights were always better when he wasn't alone.

Spencer sat up in bed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked around the dimly lit room. 

"You okay?" 

He nodded. A warm hand landed on his lower back. 

"It's just a dream, Spencer," his lover whispered. 

Reminding him of that fact was more comforting than patronising. He turned and smiled at the other person sharing his bed. 

"I'm glad you're here tonight. The last case was bad... but it doesn't seem as hard to process with you here," he admitted.

The young profiler found himself tugged back down to the bed and kissed soundly but gently. Even with the ghosts of his nightmare haunting him, he smiled. The bad nights were always better when he wasn't alone.


	10. Not Losing His Grip Completely Yet (Criminal Minds/X-Men, Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, being around too many people made it difficult to control his abilities.

Too many people. 

There were too many people around him. The task force was furious and frustrated and focused; their emotions were strong and threatening to overtake his mind. Every deep breath he took in an attempt to centre himself only served to remind him that he only had a tenuous-at-best grip on his shields. 

He looked around for someone he could lean on---the team didn't know about his abilities but he gained strength in different ways from each of them. Morgan was busy talking to a detective (but he was someone Spencer turned to for a sense of confidence more than anything else), JJ was reading (but she was who he turned to when he needed care), and Emily and Rossi weren't in the station (although both were viable options for the kind of control and relaxation he was seeking). 

"Reid?"

His surname was the only warning he got before a warm, heavy hand firmly gripped his shoulder. 

Hotch.

The one person whose control made his own either strengthen or weaken depending on the look in his eye or the tone of his voice. The one person who inspired unpredictability in his mental shielding. The one person he couldn't really read without serious effort. The one person who made his pulse race with a little smile. 

He hoped he wasn't blushing as he turned around. 

"Everything's fine," he assured his supervisor. 

Hotch's eyebrows jumped up a bit. "That wasn't what I was asking, but now I seriously doubt it's the truth." 

"Oh. Sorry. Was thinking," he mumbled. 

"Anything I can help with?"

He shook his head. Hotch frowned a little, but not in a mad way. If anything, he suspected it was in a sad way. 

"If you change your mind, find me. Any time." 

"Hotch..." 

The senior agent levelled a stern look his way. "Any time, Reid. I mean it." 

He nodded. "Okay. I... well, thank you." 

Hotch gave him a little smile. It was more of a lightening of his usual grim expression, but the younger profiler understood it to be a small smile. The gesture warmed him---few people got that look from Hotch, really---and he felt himself savouring that emotional output until he saw Emily and was able to spend some time in her calm company.


	11. Healing with the Pack, III (Bitten/Criminal Minds, Jeremy Danvers, Antonio Sorrentino, Nick Sorrentino, Clayton Danvers, Elena Michaels, Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner, Spencer Reid, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron decides to take Jack to the pack's home.

Nick and Antonio had gone back to the manor, to survey the property in their absence and to prepare it for guests. Elena and Clay would be trailing behind Jeremy as he drove Aaron and Jack to New York. 

Aaron had decided to take some of his time and introduce Jack to Stonehaven earlier than he'd expected he'd have to. Jeremy had urged m into it, but it had been an easy sell. Jack had demonstrated a mild burst of enthusiasm and Aaron would have done anything to encourage more of that mood in his son. A trip to the country was the least he could do. 

He'd been putting his and Jack's bags in the trunk of his car when he heard footsteps approaching him in the parking lot. He inhaled, smelled Reid, and relaxed. He wasn't sure why his teammate was there, but he knew the genius meant no threat.

"Hotch?" 

He turned. The younger man looked unsure, but when he saw Aaron's bags, his eyes took on a frantic gleam. "Hey, Reid," he said calmly. He knew it was important to calm his teammate---he often felt like he was the alpha for his profilers and wanted (needed) to ensure their well-being---so he quickly but calmly explained the situation. "Just going away with some family. Taking Jack to the country for a few days---a week tops," he assured the other man. 

Spencer looked relieved to hear that. "Oh. Well, I hope it's a good time for both of you."

"Is something wrong?"

The younger man startled. "Oh! Right. I found a couple of books in my collection that made me think of Jack, and I thought..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have intruded, but I wanted to do something and---"

"Reid. Spencer, it's fine," he said, trying to get him to stop rambling. "Thank you. It means a lot that you thought of Jack."

"And you," Spencer mumbled. The tips of his ears turned pink. He awkwardly thrust the shopping bag out towards Aaron, who took it from him without saying anything. "Maybe you can read them together while you're away." 

"Sounds great," Aaron assured him. "How was the case?"

"The usual---"

"Aaron, you almost packed? I think Jack's eager to get on the road."

At the sound of Jeremy's approach, Spencer clammed up. 

Aaron smiled at his Alpha. "Clay, too, I'm guessing," he commented. He earned a brief laugh and a grin from Jeremy for his guess. He waited until the other man was closer and then he performed introductions. "Reid, this is Jeremy. We're going to his place to stay while we're out of town." 

"It's nice to meet you," Jeremy said as he extended his hand. 

Reid slipped his hand into the other werewolf's and smiled a little even as his gaze dropped. "You, too," he replied. He took his hand back and gestured a little as he spoke. "I apologise for intruding. I just got back from work and wanted to run some books over for Jack. I didn't---"

"Reid," Aaron interrupted gently, "you're not intruding." 

"Aaron's lucky to have people like you in his life who care about him and his son," Jeremy said in agreement. "Too bad we're on our way out, or else I'd love to get to know you a bit better." 

Spencer's ears turned pink again. He looked a bit out of his depth---Jeremy often had that effect on certain personalities---so Aaron stepped up beside him, a silent show of support and protection. Jeremy noticed and relaxed his body language a bit so while he didn't yield any ground he seemed a little less dominant. 

"Maybe another time," Spencer said quietly. 

Jeremy grinned. "Definitely."

The younger profile cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pockets. "I, uh, well, I better go so you can get going," he said nervously. He smiled a bit. "It was nice meeting you, Jeremy, and Hotch... I hope the time away does you and Jack some good."

"Thanks, Reid," Aaron said in reply. "I'll see you when I get back." 

Spencer nodded and after a little wave he stepped away and headed towards the path that would take him to the sidewalk at the front of the building. Aaron watched him leave, an odd feeling in his chest that magnified when he turned and looked at his Alpha. 

Jeremy was smirking slightly. Aaron rolled his eyes.

"So that's your genius," Jeremy commented. 

"The team's, yes," Aaron corrected him. 

Jeremy's smile stretched. Aaron saw his expression and he shook his head. 

"Don't say anything else." 

"I wasn't going to," Jeremy said, voice drawling a little in amusement. 

Aaron rolled his eyes, closed the trunk of his car, and went to go get his son from inside his apartment.


	12. It's a Cinch (The Hobbit, Bard the Bowman, Thranduil, Modern/Equestrian AU, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Bard's a reiner; Thranduil is a hunter jumper. There are differences between English and Western, but the two men share things in common, too.

Bard tacked up his gelding in the box stall he'd been renting for the week. The show had been a busy affair, drawing lots of people from dawn to dusk, but luckily the classes in which he'd been competing were mostly around suppertime. He'd been able to feed his horses (he'd brought two for the show, but his students brought four in total along with him) in the morning, then spend time with his children and students through the day, before leisurely warming up both mounts and then getting them and himself ready for the classes with plenty of time to spare. 

"Your girth needs tightening." 

The dark-haired man looked up and saw a tall, lithe man standing at the door to his stall. 

"I'm getting there. I always give Thorin a few minutes with it loose, makes him cranky if I tighten his cinch too quickly," Bard explained with an easy smile. 

The intruder on his quiet pressed his lips together for a moment and then stepped back. Bard came through the door of the stall, latched it behind him, and headed to the rack of tack his students had set up nearby to look for the bridle he'd wanted to use.

When he turned around, he saw that the other man was wearing breeches and english boots. His hair was pulled back in a long blond braid that fell down over his startlingly clean shirt. Bard wondered if he did his own work; he knew that he could never keep himself or his show clothes clean if he tried to wear them and do his job. Whether he did or not didn't matter, though, when he considered what an attractive picture the man made. He wondered why he'd stopped by to visit but wasn't complaining. The eye candy alone was worth it, and if he could carry a conversation, then that would be even better. 

"I'm Bard." 

"I know. I watched you ride last night." 

Bard smiled. "Yeah? Not a lot of hunter jumpers stick around for the reining classes." 

"It is similar to dressage, in a way," the stranger explained. "I like patterns." 

"Me, too," Bard agreed. He smiled. The man looked both uncomfortable and relieved at the same time; Bard found that the combination piqued his curiosity. "Do you have a name?" he asked, a teasing tone lilting his voice. 

"Thranduil." 

Bard recognised the name. "We watched you riding a couple days ago," he said, smiling. "My youngest---Tilda---she loves your horse. She doesn't like jumping, it makes her nervous, but when she saw your horse---the big bay, right?---she wanted to stay and watch." 

The other man's ears turned a faint shade of pink. "I... yes, that's Elrond. You have two daughters? I saw two girls wandering through the barn when we were unloading." 

"They're probably mine," Bard said with a grin. He put the bridle he was carrying over his shoulder and reached up to tie his hair back into a messy bun. "Sorry if they bothered you." 

Thranduil shook his head. "They didn't. They know how to act around horses---"

"Unlike some that come through here?" Bard finished for him. He chuckled when Thranduil agreed. "Yeah, they've been bugging us, too. Gotta hang blankets at night so they get some rest. It's not perfect, but it keeps them from getting hassled too much." 

"My son's been staying at the grounds all night. He's very... protective of his mount. Tauriel's been through a lot and he feels better when he's doing something active," Thranduil explained. He shrugged. "Travelling as much as we do is stressful enough. If it lessens his worry, then I can let him stay." 

Bard nodded. He understood that all too well. 

"You both show?"

"Yes. Hunter Jumper and Hunter Under Saddle. Legolas shows in Hunt Seat Equitation, as well. Do your girls show?"

Bard grinned. "Sigrid and Bain---my son---do. Tilda's still a little young. Bain takes Thorin in the Trail classes. Sigrid shows my other one in Showmanship and Trail... and Western Pleasure, sometimes." 

"I will have to remember to watch them," Thranduil said with a little smile. 

"I'll keep an eye out for your boy, too," Bard agreed. He heard a couple of his students nearby and sighed. "I better get out of here if I want to get my warm-up ride in," he explained.

Thranduil smiled. "The curse of coaching?"

"Something like that, yes," he replied, grinning. "If you're sticking around tonight, maybe we could talk some more later?"

"I'd... yes, that sounds good."

Bard ducked into the stall. He bridled Thorin and led him out of the stall. 

"Have a good ride. And don't forget about your girth," Thranduil commented quietly. 

"It's a cinch, but thanks," Bard shot back. When Thranduil rolled his eyes, he grinned and decided to try his luck and tease him a bit more. "See you later, Thrandy." 

"That's not my name." 

Bard would have apologised, but before he walked away he saw the small look of pleasant surprise on his face so he kept the words to himself.


	13. Free (Bitten (TV), Elena Michaels, Clayton Danvers, Savannah Levine, Aleister, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay comes to their rescue, as Elena's trying to wrench Savannah free from their enemy.

Elena looked at Aleister and felt a growl building up in her throat. Her instincts were to get to the child, to protect her. The knife he held in his hand was a threat---more than the ruffling of magic in the air around them, because she knew she'd hurt him enough to lessen his power's dominance over her---but more of a threat to the young witch than to her. 

"Now, now, surely we can come to some sort of agreement," the man said, bravado filling his words. 

Savannah blinked at Elena. She'd faced a lot of truths in the past few days and was still standing. She was shaking and her eyes were wide in fear, but she was still standing. Elena looked at her, fierceness in her face, and took some satisfaction in the way the girl's trembles quieted. She would survive the ordeal. 

"The only agreement I'm willing to make is for you to release Savannah and to get the hell out of our way," Elena said in reply, "and in exchange I won't rip out your throat." 

She felt the presence of another wolf before she saw it. The other wolf was in her heart and soul, she'd always recognise his proximity. 

_Clay._

She looked at Savannah, knowing that she needed to keep the girl calm. 

"Savannah, look at me," Elena said quietly. "No matter what happens, just look at me. It's going to be okay." 

Savannah swallowed. Her throat brushed against the edge of the knife but the blade did not cut her. 

Clay's wolfish form made its way into the corridor. His body was tensed for a fight, all coiled muscles and raised heckles and exposed teeth. Elena relaxed slightly at the sight of him before dropping down a little lower and spoiling her human form for an attack---to grab Savannah as Clay took care of their captor. 

It happened in a blur of fur and limbs. Aleister screamed as Clay knocked him down and bit into his shoulder. Savannah screamed as Elena pounced and pulled her out of the way. They rolled into the wall, coming to a stop in time to see Clay sinking his teeth into the other man's neck with all the power his jaws could muster. 

"Omigod," Savannah whispered. 

"Shhh," Elena murmured. She covered Savannah's eyes with her hand and pulled the girl in close to her body. Aleister gave one final scream---more of a gurgle, really---and then Clay was shaking himself loose. 

He padded towards them, threat gone from his body language. He whined. Elena pulled one arm free of the girl to reach out for her partner. 

"Clay," she whispered when her fingers found fur. She inched forward, minding Savannah, and buried her face in Clay's neck. "God, Clay..." 

He gave a little whimper, licked her shoulder, and then pulled back. He looked to the corridor and nudged her. 

It was time to leave. They were finally free.


	14. Pirouettes and Spins (The Hobbit, Bard the Bowman, Thranduil, young Legolas, Modern/Equestrian AU, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern/Equestrian AU. Thranduil tries to justify his sudden interest in reining to his young son.

During big shows, Thranduil Orophersson often kept to himself. No sense in getting worn out; if he wasn't looking to buy another horse or any sort of special tack, networking only seemed to drain him of the energy needed to do his job (to win). He had a reputation as being a stern but successful trainer (and the awards to back up those claims) and most people---especially those who knew him as well as he allowed---respected his need for privacy unless it was an urgent sort of situation. 

But, then, he'd been walking past one of the warm-up rings after watching one of the heats for the week-long event's Hunter Under Saddle futurity class (because it never hurt to keep an eye out for good bloodlines and talent), and he'd seen a man riding a black gelding. He was a quiet rider with a strong seat and soft hands; he looked happy to be there, relaxed and enjoying himself in the moment despite the crowd in the arena. He'd been captivated enough to watch the evening reining classes (because it had been obvious the man was a reiner, between his horse's long mane and the maneuvers they were performing together). After that indulgence, he felt compelled to talk with the man---at least once. 

It had taken a day but he'd managed to approach him. 

It hadn't been pretty---Thranduil's usual conversational grace had failed him completely---but he'd managed it. 

He'd met Bard Bowman (reiner, coach, and father) and they seemed to have made tentative plans to meet again. The idea of seeing more of him made Thranduil's insides tighten nervously. The man was handsome and easy-going and he understood the demands of their chosen industry and of family. He knew nothing would come of their meeting besides friendship but he couldn't stop himself from imagining how it could be if the fates were on his side. 

"Ada?" 

He turned from his throughts and saw his son, Legolas, sitting down next to him on the back of the truck. "Ada" was something that he'd called him when he was a baby and it had stuck, even into his early teen years---something for which Thranduil was grateful even though he couldn't properly articulate it. 

"The horses are fed?" he asked as he put his arm around the teenager's shoulders. 

"Yes. And watered. I'll check them again tonight." 

Thranduil sighed. "If you want to come to the hotel, you know you just have to tell me, right?"

Legolas nodded. "I know. I don't mind it here though. It's kinda fun sometimes. Besides, all I need is a warm place to sleep and read my book." 

He smiled at his son. "Very well, if you're sure." 

"I am." Legolas smiled back at him. "But, if you'd bring me breakfast in the morning, that'd be awsome." 

"You're so easy to please," Thranduil commented teasingly. He placed his head upon the top of his son's head, ignored the small squawk he made to place a kiss upon the younger blond's head, and then he straightened. "I will bring you breakfast. I promise." 

"Thanks. You heading out soon?" 

"I was going to watch some of the reining tonight and then leave after that." 

Legolas blinked up at his father. "You? Watch reining?"

"It's similar to dressage---" 

The teenager snorted. "Sure, if sliding stops and spins are the same thing as---"

"Oh hush," Thranduil muttered, tugging his son in for another hug. "That is all on the surface. Underneath there are similarities." 

"The chaps?" 

"Part of the costume." 

"Spins are not pirouettes, Ada." 

Thranduil smiled and shrugged. "And yet, I enjoy them. It's good to look at different disciplines, for training exercises, to strengthen your own abilities..." he explained. He believed what he said, but he was using it as an excuse. He did not want his son to know he was infatuated with someone; it had been a while since his wife and his son's mother had died, those wounds had scarred over, but he didn't want his son's feelings to be hurt (or his spirits lifted unnecessarily). 

"Want to grab dinner at the canteen?"

"Ugh." 

"They make curly fries!" 

Thranduil's stomach gave a small, hungry gurgle. Damn his son for knowing his junk food weaknesses. 

"Alright, fine. If we must." 

Legolas grinned and hopped off the back of the truck.


	15. Must've been a dream (The Hobbit, Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Modern AU, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, separate from the equestrian story. Their date ended after a long walk on the lakefront boardwalk, hands entangled...

Their date ended after a long walk on the lakefront boardwalk, hands entangled. While Bard wanted it to continue, he knew he had to get home to to his children and he also knew Thranduil understood that as he was a father himself. 

He'd been attracted to the man---a local artist and jeweler---ever since he'd ducked into his shop to look for a graduation present for his eldest, Sigrid. One look into those beautiful blue eyes, and he'd been caught. Feelings he hadn't felt in so long overwhelmed him. Feelings he'd never felt before threatened to squeeze his heart. He'd been caught and Thranduil had eased his struggle by smiling and asking him to dinner. 

"Can we do this again sometime?" he asked quietly as they stopped at Thranduil's car. 

The taller, lighter man smirked. "I think you should come over and see my etchings next time," he murmured smoothly.

Bard gave a quick bark of laughter, before quieting with a grin and a nod. "That... yes, that would be... I'd like that." He squeezed Thranduil's hand. "I'd really like---"

Before he could finish his sentence, he found himself with his arms full and his lips engaged in a kiss. Thranduil had pounced and Bard had reacted; he wrapped his arms around the other man and kissed him back as fiercely as he was being kissed. 

He reached up with one hand and caught Thranduil's long braid in his hand. A gentle tug made Thranduil moan quietly. Heat suffused him at the silent wonder of what a firmer tug could provoke. 

_"Ni melithodh n'uir?" ("Will you love me for eternity?")*_

_"Always, my lord, my love... I will love you always."_

He heard the whispered words---understanding the foreign language, as well---and saw flashes of blond hair and sad, tender eyes in his mind's eye. His heart ached at the thought...

...the memory?

Of a dream, he silently decided as the man in his arms gentled their kiss. He must have dreamed of Thranduil the day he'd been asked on a date. 

He ducked his face into Thranduil's throat, seeking refuge from his lips, but the skin there smelled delicious and he couldn't resist sucking some of it into his mouth. 

"If I don't leave, we're going to run afoul of indecency laws," Bard all-but-groaned after releasing his flesh. 

Thranduil chuckled. He gave a little whimper when Bard teased his neck with his teeth, but laughter was still in his voice and eyes when he pulled back a bit. 

"I am definitely going to call you," the taller man said. "And plan to keep Saturday night free. I will want you..." he trailed off and let his eyes rake over Bard's body, "...all to myself. No interruptions." 

Bard grinned. "What if I want you all to myself, instead?"

Thranduil smirked. "If that's what it takes. I'm flexible." 

Bard bit back a moan. 

They shared another kiss before Thranduil stepped back and unlocked his car. Bard watched him get in and drive away before he gave himself a mental shake and got into his truck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Elvish expression found at http://www.realelvish.net/phrasebook.php --- hopefully it's accurate enough, since I don't know much about the language!


	16. Three parts make a whole (The Hobbit, Bard the Bowman/Thranduil/OFC, Dom/Sub AU, E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never thought she'd be in such a position, but she was glad the two kings were attracted to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm including this in the ficlets collection because I have a much longer (more complicated, and slightly self-indulgent) idea for this story, with Bard as a switch and other things happening. I've been trying to write it for a little while now, but I keep meandering and getting lost. It doesn't help that I don't know much about this universe's mythology, or understand the stuff I do sort of know. This is one of the few bits that didn't get too long or messy. Hopefully one day I'll find time to write it decently. 

Lónannûniel sighed happily from her spot between the two kings. She never thought she'd be in such a position, when she first came to Mirkwood, but a year after her arrival, she was glad the two kings had been attracted to her and that she had been attracted to them. 

She was also glad she could be of service, acting as a bridge between their dominant personalities. They'd been in love, struggling to find satisfaction without burning up their hearts in the process (and also without getting caught, because their societies did not think two dominants should be together), but with her, they could find the submission they needed for fulfillment without having to yield to each other (as well as an arrangement that no one seemed to have a problem with, surprisingly).

"Focus, pet," Bard scolded her. He seemed to sense she'd drifted, and his teeth in her shoulder shook her from her internal reflection. 

He liked to bite; she liked seeing his marks when he was finished. 

She listened as he slicked his cock, but kept her eyes on her king. Her other king, she silently corrected herself, since she was a child of elf and woman, and recognized them both as rulers over her, politically (and emotionally, since their coming together). 

Thranduil was underneath her and inside of her. He was reclining regally on a pile of pillows, watching Bard as he readied himself. His fingers were wrapped around one of the cords he'd tied in intricate knots around her torso; every few minutes, he'd give a gentle tug and smile when she swayed. 

He liked to restrain. And tease. She likes to think she'd like them both more if he refrained from torturing her until she was a teary, slippery mess so frequently, but she liked them just fine despite (or because of) the mess. 

"Dragonslayer, do stop teasing me and join us."

Bard laughed softly and shuffled into position. He knelt behind Lónannûniel and kissed the place he'd nipped. 

He seated himself inside her slowly. They'd coupled like that before, they knew she could take them both, but he was usually slow to enter. Once he was flush against her back, he reached up and cupped her throat in one hand. 

"Such a good pet," he crooned. He squeezed and she whimpered. She tried to rock her hips, but both men held her still. "Not until we say."

"Please, my lords," she begged. "It has been too long since we were last three, and you... you feel so good... inside me."

"Begging so soon?" Thranduil inquired. 

He tugged on the ropes and she yielded, falling forward onto his body; Bard's hand shifted to her back, to where her wrists were bound, and he squeezed her hands. 

"Please, my lord," Lónannûniel whispered. "A kiss?" 

Thranduil smiled and guided her head to his. He kissed her once, gently, and then a second time, forcefully. She arched into the embrace, moaning when both men shifted inside of her. 

Bard's free hand found purchase on her neck before sliding underneath to squeeze her throat with a bit more force. She felt it nearly impossible to draw breath; Thranduil groaned as he kissed her airless mouth. When she was released, she gasped into his kiss. 

Their rhythm slowly built, hampered only by bites and tugs and squeezes, but just barely. 

That night, Thranduil would not allow her release until after they'd finished. Once they'd pulled from her body, slippery and softening, she fell to her side and writhed desperately. Thranduil untied her torso, teasing her even more with the pads of his fingers, and when she was free, she she stretched and moaned. 

Bard moaned, too. 

"She is a wreck."

"And we have wrecked her," Thranduil said, smiling. He brought his fingers between her legs and twirled them through her folds. 

Lónannûniel whimpered loudly and tried to move against his touch. Bard's arm pinned her in place when he leaned in to watch. The pearly fluid on his fingers was caught by Bard's mouth when the elf lifted his hand away and asked: "How do we taste?"

Bard responded with a low growl and a few words of praise wrapped in curses. He shifted until he was between her legs and then he lowered his head. He sniffed once before licking a long, firm line over her sensitive flesh. He moaned and repeated his actions. 

Before she could grow used to his licking, he pulled back and bit her inner thigh. He didn't use his full strength, only enough to ensure there would be a bruise. Lónannûniel moaned and tried to twist away (or into) his grip; Thranduil moved so he could pin her body down, so his head was pillowed on her breasts. 

Bard released her when she stilled. He moved onto her other leg, placing a trail of small nips on the path he took to her thighs' apex. 

"Oh, please... please..."

Bard chuckled and dove in, licking her into a frenzied state. She felt Thranduil's little laugh at their lover's enthusiasm, but could only see his mane of silky hair. 

"Do you think she is worthy of release, Dragonslayer?"

Bard hummed against her. Lónannûniel shrieked at the vibrations against what felt like her raw nerves. Thranduil laughed again. 

"Very well," the Elvenking purred. "Undo her at your discretion." 

Bard did just that. He licked and sucked and only brought her to the brink twice before pushing her over the edge. She yelled for them both, before dissolving into trembles and whimpers when he decided to lick her clean as well. 

Thranduil rose when Bard did. Lónannûniel could see remnants of their mingled fluids in Bard's facial hair; Thranduil must have, too, because instead of blushing like she did, he leaned forward and caught Bard into a deep, licking kiss. He moaned. Bard sighed a happy exhalation and cupped his male lover's face in his hands. 

After several sloppy kisses, they collapsed next to her. Bard pulled her into his arms and Thranduil snuggled up behind him so he could wrap an arm around Bard and have his hand rest on her hip. 

Lónannûniel closed her eyes. Bard kissed her shoulder. 

"Thank you, pet." 

"Mmm, the pleasure was all mine, my lords," she purred, a little playfulness still in her voice. 

Thranduil lightly slapped her hip. She grinned. Yes, it was definitely for the best that she'd come to Mirkwood and fallen for her two kings. 


	17. Paying attention in the warm-up ring (The Hobbit, Bard the Bowman, Thranduil, Modern/Equestrian AU, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil seeks Bard out after his evening ride. A little conversation while they wait for his results.

"Hello, again," Bard said as he met the other man against the rail of the warm-up arena. "Heard you had a good day."

He chuckled quietly when Thranduil's cheeks warmed a bit. "Thank you," the tall, fair man replied. "How was your ride?" 

The reiner grinned. "How do you think it was?"

Thranduil's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. "I... I may have seen some of it," he admitted. "You were very good. Great sliding stops. And the spins were... fast. You didn't drift much." 

Bard felt his own cheeks flush even as his grin stretched. "Thanks."

"The judge liked it, too. I know the scoring system isn't very subjective, but still, he must have given you top marks for a lot of your maneuvers," the taller man continued. "So far, you have the score to beat."

"There are six more after this one---" Bard reminded him with a gesture to the main arena, where another entrant was going through the pattern "---so it's still anyone's win."

Thranduil rolled his eyes a little. "Just say 'thank you.'"

Bard chuckled. "Fine. Thank you."  

He watched as his new acquaintance reached out and brushed his fingers over Thorin's muzzle. The gelding's ears went back; Thranduil frowned but he didn't flinch or move away quickly. He simply stayed in contact with Thorin's nose before slowly retracting his hand.

"Don't take it personally," Bard advised. "He's not the most pleasant guy around new people." 

"It's fine. I might not be too comfortable, either, if a stranger rubbed my face."

He reached out and cupped the side of Thranduil's face in one of his hands. 

Bard wasn't sure what exactly possessed him to do it. 

Well, he knew why he did it, the man in front of him was gorgeous, but he didn't know why his normally-strong self-restraint caved in that moment to give his impulses free rein. 

"Oh," the other man breathed, looking pleasantly surprised. 

"Uncomfortable?"

Thranduil blinked twice slowly before giving a slight shake to his head. He turned into the palm against his cheek before blushing. Bard could see many unknown (to him) thoughts flashing across the other man's face. 

Bard withdrew his hand slowly. The announcer spoke, the sound muffled by the time it reached the practice ring. 

Thranduil smiled. "So far, so good," he commented quietly. 

"Yeah?"

The taller man snorted. "The last rider didn't beat your score. Aren't you paying attention?"

Bard grinned and let his eyes travel up and down Thranduil's body. "On the important stuff, sure," he said, feeling more flirtatious than he had in a very long time. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "You are certifiable." 

He laughed softly. "Quite possibly, but you're still here, so what does that say about you?"

The other man sniffed. "Oh, shush." 

Bard laughed a bit more. 

They continued to talk, alternating between light flirting and more serious topics until all the other entrants in the open reining class had competed. Before the results could be announced, he looked at Thranduil and smiled. 

"Any chance you'll stick around for a bit?" he asked. 

"I have to go check on Legolas, but after that, I could be persuaded to stay," he replied, smiling a bit. 

"Good," Bard said with a smile still curving his lips. "So, I'll find you later?"

"If I don't find you first," Thranduil agreed. He reached out and squeezed Bard's arm; his touch was light but very warm. "And, congratulations."

"Huh?"

The taller man rolled his eyes. "You won." 

"Oh! Right, yes, thanks." 

Thranduil smiled and shifted his weight. "Go get your ribbon. I'll see you later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have an idea to make this a longer story... I can't decide if it's just an excuse to imagine them in riding gear, or if it could be something with some sort of point---or if that even matters. 


	18. Morning Peace and Pretty Pictures (Arrow, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak/John Diggle, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows this won't last long... so when she has a few minutes of wakefulness on both of the men her life, she likes to sit back and savour it. 

She knows this (the quiet, easy peace) won't last long, and soon they'll be overwrought with stress and fear and fury, so when she has a few minutes of wakefulness on both of the men her life, she likes to sit back and savour it. 

She likes to watch them sleep, especially when John is at Oliver's back. They like to keep her between them on rougher nights; when it's peaceful, they don't treat her as if she's breakable or needs protecting and that makes her feel strong. She needs that strength to carry her through the fearful days; it reminds her that she can be what they need. Seeing John behind Oliver reminds her that she's not the only one that needs something and it's not weak to need that something, yes, but it's also a sight that is just _lovely_ to take in. 

Toasted caramel against golden (slightly darkened) vanilla, deliciousness on their own, but there's so much to the two men with whom she shares a bed than a couple of simple flavours. They're complicated on their own, with histories of laughter and tears, but together they've become a complex pairing that she suspects she's barely learned to savour. 

The worry lines are erased from John's eyes, and the serious press of Oliver's lips is lost to the slight swelling from lots of kisses the night before and to the relaxation only deep sleep can bring him. 

Felicity smiles and commits them to memory. Dark and light (skin), lighter and darker (personalities). Both hers. Both fitting inside her heart as if they had always been there and would continue on there forever. She has a few images like this one in her mind; she draws on them when she needs a moment of peace or of solace. 

Sometimes, John wakes first and watches her watch them. She thinks he understands why she watches them so much, but he never says anything to provide proof of that. 

When Oliver wakes first, there is no subtle, silent contemplation. There is only him reaching out for her, slowly so he doesn't startle her, and then he draws her back into their warmth. He reminds her that touch can be more potent than sight; and she never minds being reminded of that. 

But, she can't use touch memory to bolster her spirits in the eye of the storm the way she can her pretty pictures. So she makes sure she sits back and looks her fill before she is interrupted by one or both of them. 


	19. A Favour (The Hobbit, Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of battle, Thranduil asks Bard for a favour.

The next time he was summoned to the Elvenking's tent, the flaps were closed and secured against the chill of the winter night's air. The wizard was nowhere to be seen. 

Bard waited for the guard to tell his king they'd arrived. Then, when the silent aide stepped back and motioned to the interior of the tent, he stepped through the opening. The guard fastened the tent closed. 

"Thank you for coming," Lord Thranduil said quietly. 

Bard smiled a bit. "You are welcome, my lord. Is there more strategy for tomorrow to discuss?"

The fairer of the two shook his head. "No, but there is something of a favour I would ask of you, if you would consider it," he replied. 

The bowman nodded. "Anything. How can I help?"

He watched as the elf's entire demeanor seemed to change---from very confident to almost nervous---and he wondered if that change were a direct reflection of the blond's mental state. Concerned, because he could not fathom what would inspire such a change in the leader who only ever displayed his surety to date, he made sure he was still smiling and was keeping his stance calm and quiet to appear supportive.  

"It has been a while since I have asked for such a---"

"Just ask it," Bard urged, as politely as he . "If it is in my power to do so, I will grant you this favour. Unless necessary, I will not divulge this favour with another soul." 

Lord Thranduil's lips curved into a small smile. 

"Very well," the elf conceded. "There are times when few things will quiet my mind. I am accustomed to being in charge---of my kingdom and its people---but it is the control of one individual that provides internal peace like nothing else. 

"Now, before you panic, let me assure you it is not malicious or cruel control I seek," he quickly added. "If anything, it would be the act of you entrusting yourself to my care. I promise, I would never force you to do something that would cause you true discomfort---humiliating the one in my care is not something I enjoy." 

The Elvenking frowned slightly. "It is difficult to ask this of another... in you, I see one who would not judge. But, I apologise if---"

Bard put his hand up, successfully interrupting the royal elf. He had never expected such a favour---from anyone, ever. He felt woefully unprepared for making such a decision. 

"May I ask..."

"Anything."

Bard nodded. And then he swallowed. 

"What would you wish to do... to me?" 

"To begin, a bath," Thranduil replied. "Or what will pass for a bath on the battlefield. After that, I would like to tend to any injuries you might have. Perhaps a massage... or anything else that might seem appropriate. Nothing overtly amorous, if you do not desire it. And if anything truly disagrees with you, you simply have to say 'no,' and I will stop." 

The dark-haired man hesitated in responding. The idea of the King of the Woodland Realm tending to his needs sounded both fantastic and insane. 

Men did not often lie with men in Laketown. It was not unusual for boys to be discovered together, but the lack of fruit born from such a union was usually disincentive enough to keep up such habits. Still, Bard had never seen a problem with mutual respect and mutual attraction, no matter the gender of the two involved. He'd grown up to believe that whatever comfort and shelter could be fostered between two people of any kind or type should be cherished. As time marched on and he endured loneliness after his wife's passing, that belief strengthened his resolve against the notion of meaningless trysts. It had to be fulfilling. It had to have meaning. Anything less would cause more harm than good. 

He suspected there might be mutual attraction. Lord Thranduil was stunning; he could not lie about that. And the Elvenking would not have asked him if he did not at least find him at least a little physically appealing. 

There was also a bit of mutual respect. There was the potential for more, of course, but attitudes and upbringings did create a few obstacles to negotiate first. Still, it seemed as if they'd made a bit of progress in that vein the last couple of days. 

That, combined with the idea of surrendering his expanding mantle of responsibilities for an hour or two, had him leaning toward conceding to Thranduil's request. 

But, the idea of a bargeman and a king together seemed like such an unlikely match that he wasn't sure if he should. 

He felt almost dizzy as he processed the favour requested of him. 

"It is too much. I understand," Thranduil said. "You may take your leave if---"

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

Bard smiled a bit. He felt his face warming as he spoke again. "I said 'yes,' my lord," he replied. "I apologise. I had not expected... this. But if you are serious, then I will agree."

"Truly?"

He nodded. "Truly. I give myself to your tender mercies." 

Thranduil's face broke into a grin, something Bard had never seen before. He'd seen smirks, of course, and small, slight curves of one or both sides of his mouth, but never a full-blown grin that lit his entire face. He found himself struck almost entirely dumb by the sight. 

A shiver of excitement travelled up his spine. He wasn't sure to what he'd agreed, but after seeing the joy on Thranduil's face he was looking forward to seeing what else the night would bring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to continue this. Or make a longer story out of this. Just need another idea or two. And time.


	20. Watch the wreckage burn (Fast and Furious movies/The Hobbit, Owen Shaw/Thranduil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil watches the plane burning on the news.

How had he ended up here? 

Thranduil had followed his heart. That's how. 

He watched the plane aflame on the news and his traitorous heart ached. Had his love---that same love that returned to him, lifetime after lifetime---survived or was he in there burning to death the way he had done twice, a hundred and three hundred and two years ago, and the way he himself almost had done when facing the dragons in the north in the age of elves? 

His heart ached and fluttered. He couldn't get there before the military did, since the plane was burning on their base, and even if he could, there was no way he could get past their enemies to find Bard. 

Owen. 

He was Owen now, like he'd been Michael and Sampson and Jess and François and so on, but he'd always be _his Bard_. 

His phone rang. He fumbled for it, hope and panic making his usually controlled movements frantic. 

Owen's brother's name flashed across the screen. His heart muscles seemed to clench. 

"Deckard?" he said into the phone. "Have you---"

"I don't know," he interrupted. "I'm on my way there now. Stay calm and keep your phone close. He'll call if, when he can. I'll call when I have news."

Thranduil made himself take a deep breath. "Y-yes, alright. Thank you." 

"But whatever happens, know that we're going to make them pay," Deckard added, his voice tight with anger and fear. 

"Good." 


	21. Dangerous Men Meet (Fast and Furious movies/The Hobbit, Owen Shaw/Thranduil, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Owen Shaw meet for the first time.

Bard's reincarnations usually appreciated simpler pleasures, but every once and a while, there was one that liked the finer things a well-financed life could offer. 

As Thranduil watched the (former) military man enter the club, dressed in well-tailored, form-fitting clothes that were nothing like the loose, paint-stained clothes Michael, Bard's last reincarnation, had preferred to wear and that concealed at least three weapons, as far as he could discern, Thranduil knew the new Bard would not want "just whatever's cold and on tap." 

He studied the wine and liquor list and decided on an expensive Shiraz. He told his server he wanted to gift the entire bottle to the man who was taking one of the back booths for himself. 

The server gave him a smile and a nod before she left to do her job. 

Fifteen minutes later, she returned with a piece of folded paper. 

_Nice taste. Seems a shame not to share it. Care to join me?_

Thranduil smiled at the man from across the room. He nodded and rose. After putting a couple bills on the table to cover his own drinks, he made his way through the growing crowds and sauntered to the man's table. 

"And what have I done to catch the attention of such a dangerous man?" 

Thranduil felt his cheeks warm. Michael had called Thranduil beautiful. So had nearly every one of Bard's reincarnations. Very few of them recognised the lethal strength he hid from everyone (or the weapons secreted on his person); fighting wasn't a requirement of survival anymore, he wasn't leading or in an army, and he rarely used his skills in public. 

"You walked into the club." 

The man grinned. He didn't have Michael's longer, shaggier hair. His was cropped close to his head. He did have the scruff, though; it seemed like every one of Bard's lives disliked spending quality time with a razor, much to Thranduil's delight. And when he smiled, it lit up his face and Thranduil's heart, as his smile always did. 

"Owen Shaw," he said as he extended his hand. 

He put his hand into Owen's; warmth settled in the pit of his stomach. 

"Thranduil."

"No last name?" 

"It changes too often to be worth sharing." 

Owen's smile turned into a smirk. "I can understand that," he commented. "Please join me." 

Thranduil smiled a bit and nodded. He took a seat on the bench of the booth so he was next to Owen. 

"Are you here to try to kill me, Thranduil?" 

The elf blinked. He had not expected that question, and the casual (almost bored) way Owen asked it was also surprising. 

"Many have tried," Owen continued. He smiled again. "I'd regret killing someone as pretty as you." 

"I'm not here to kill you," Thranduil assured him. 

"Good," Owen commented. 

He took the bottle of wine and poured some more into his glass. He was about to pour some into the clean glass on the table, but Thranduil stopped him. He wanted to believe Owen wouldn't hurt him, but the man's dangerous look had him feeling wary. 

He flagged a server down and requested another glass. Owen tipped his head back and laughed. 

"A cautious man."

"A cautious man lives longer."

"But not necessary better."

"That is not true," Thranduil commented. When his new glass was on the table, Owen poured him some. They raised their glasses and took a sip, together. "My life is full of adventure, but that does not mean I need to be reckless." 

"Caution and precision," Owen mused. "We would make a good team." 

Thranduil smiled over the rim of his wine glass. "A handsome team, I suspect." 

Owen grinned. "Are you having impure thoughts?" 

"Since you walked in," the elf admitted. 

"Good. That makes this easier." 

Thranduil was about to ask what he meant, but before he could, Owen was sliding his hand across Thranduil's cheek to lightly grip his jaw. Another second later, Owen was kissing him, nipping and licking into his mouth before Thranduil even knew the kiss had deepened. 

Once he caught up, though, he surged forward and into Owen's lap like he'd been there before and threaded his fingers through the man's short hair. He scratched over Owen's scalp; he took pleasure in the way Owen bucked his hips up against him and repeated the scratching all the way down to the back of Owen's neck. 

"I am going to enjoy taking you apart," Thranduil whispered when they parted for a much-needed breath. 

Owen grinned again. "Not if I take you apart first," he murmured. "I'm having wicked fantasies of you spread out on my bed, Thran." 

Thranduil shivered. 

"There may be more than we can fit into one night," Owen added quietly. "If you're amenable to---"

Thranduil cut him off with a kiss, letting the embrace be his answer. 

Owen chuckled into his mouth and kissed him back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have a slight weakness for this pairing.


	22. A Proper Send-Off (Fast and Furious movies/The Hobbit, Owen Shaw/Thranduil, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Owen goes off on a mission, he and Thranduil plan to enjoy some time to themselves.

Owen ended his phone call and sighed. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't mean he wanted to do it. 

"What is it?" Thranduil asked quietly. The blond had come up behind him, sliding his hands over Owen's back and shoulders. "You have gotten tense." 

"Just a job, love," he replied. He put his hands over Thranduil's and leaned back against the other man's body. "I'll have to go for a while." 

Thranduil sighed. He pressed a kiss to the smooth skin behind Owen's ear. "If you have to go, promise you will come back to me," he murmured. "And call when you can." 

"Always," Owen whispered. "I'll always come back to you." 

"Good." 

"You promise me something?"

"Anything." 

Owen smiled. "Be safe. Be here when I get back." 

"Naked, in bed, waiting eagerly for your return," Thranduil purred. He nipped at Owen's ear. The military man groaned and pressed his bare ass back into the cradle of Thranduil's hips. "If you call me when you land, I can be waiting however you want me..." he whispered. "All you would have to do is undress and sink inside and---"

Owen turned and kissed him. It was a clash of lips and teeth and tongue, messy but just the way they wanted it. 

"A practice run," Thranduil suggested. 

"Something I can think about when I'm off being bad," Owen agreed. He gripped Thranduil's hips and pushed him backwards, onto the bed. He watched his lover spread his bare legs and he grinned predatorily. "I will keep this image in my head every night we're apart, Thran. You are gorgeous. Perfection." 

"Stop. You'll make me blush." 

Thranduil rarely used contractions---except when he was incredibly turned on or flustered, he kept his speech even and proper. Owen felt his grin stretch. 

"I intend to do more than that, love. I intend to make you _scream_." 

The blond shivered. Owen licked his lips. 


	23. A Surprise Visit (NCIS/X-Men, Anthony DiNozzo, Remy LeBeau, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Logan, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has an unexpected guest...

Tony unlocked his door and stepped inside. He may not have had his boss' gut instincts, but he knew when the peace of his apartment was disturbed. 

"I'm armed and I'm tired," he called out. "Show yourself." 

The person who stepped out of the shadows was not on his top ten list of people he expected to see. 

"Remy?" 

The mutant held his hands out, palms facing Tony, as he smiled. "Bonsoir, Tony," the intruder said in reply. "Needed a place to hide, _cher_ , figured you wouldn't mind." 

Tony relaxed the hand itching for his gun as soon as he processed the sight of Remy in front of him. He turned his back, closed and locked the door, and toed out of his shoes. 

"Nah, it's all good," Tony assured him. "You usually call first." 

"Remy didn' have no time for that," the other man said quietly. 

"You help yourself to my shower yet?" 

Remy grinned. " _Non_ , not yet." 

"Go. I can patch up any injuries you've got when they're clean," Tony instructed. He smiled. "I'll order pizza while you clean up, swamp rat." 

" _Merci_." 

Tony had been used to Remy's surprise visits, but they hadn't happened in a long time---not since his joining NCIS, anyway. He knew Remy would have only come here if he hadn't had any other option; it had been a long time since he was on his own, though, so being his only option had Tony concerned. 

He called for pizza and then went into his bedroom to change. On his way back into the main area of his apartment, he picked up Remy's coat and draped it over the sofa. He knew the other man would want it close. He spent the rest of the time waiting for the delivery stowing his weapons, digging out his first aid kit, and checking his mail. 

Remy appeared a few minutes after Tony paid for the pizza. He was wearing his jeans again, a towel draped around his neck. Tony could see the bruises on his abdomen and a shallow slice on his side. 

He dressed the blade wound quickly and as delicately as he could manage. Remy mumbled a quiet thanks when he was finished; Tony smiled in return. 

"Take a slice," he insisted, "I'll go grab a couple beers from the fridge." 

When he came back, his phone was ringing. He sighed, set the bottles down, and picked up the device. 

"It's my boss," he explained to Remy. He answered it on the fourth ring. "Hey, Gibbs. Is there a break in the cold---"

"I got a friend of yours here," Gibbs interrupted in his usual gruff bark. 

"Yeah?" 

"Says his name's Logan." 

Tony sighed and sat down. He looked at Remy. The mutant frowned. 

"You two have a fight, Remy?" 

"Remy don' wanna talk 'bout it," the thief muttered. 

Tony chuckled. "Boss, give him a break and tell him my address. Ask him to bring his own beer." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Trust me. He's okay." 

"You will be explaining in the morning." 

Tony smiled. He was surprised his team leader was giving him that much space, but he was glad for it. He hoped he'd be able to come up with a suitable explanation by the time he arrived at work. 

"Yeah, Boss. I know. Thanks for the heads up." 

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the coffee table. Remy looked very uncomfortable. Tony's smile faded away as he took in the other man's appearance. 

"It can't be that bad," Tony said quietly. "He came looking for you. It's been my experience that when they don't chase after you, you're beyond hope." 

Remy gave him a small smile. "Guess you might have a point there. That don' mean I'm ready to face it yet." 

"Well, you've probably got about twenty minutes to get ready." 

"Guess we better eat, then, huh?" 

Tony grinned and grabbed a slice of pizza. "As long as we leave a couple for the big guy, yeah."


	24. Research (Jurassic World, Jurassic Park, Owen Grady, Alan Grant, Ian Malcolm, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen tries to find out what he's getting into...

Owen knew enough about predators to know he needed more information about the raptors. No one working at the park could tell him what he asked to know---not without a glint in their eyes or a shift in their body language to suggest evasion---so before he flew to Costa Rica, he made a couple of calls. 

Ian Malcolm had refused to meet. All he said was "Be smart, kid, and stay away from those islands" before hanging up the phone. Owen hadn't even gotten to ask him about his dealings with the wild velociraptors. 

But, luckily, Alan Grant had welcomed him to his dig site. Few paleontologists could still make a living at digging in the dirt after what was being called "de-extinction," but Dr. Grant had managed it. His reputation of surviving those creatures twice had something to do with it, he was sure. 

Owen had flown out to where Dr. Grant was working, and within minutes of his arrival he was asking the other man all the questions he wanted answered---and getting truthful answers from someone who had had experiences few others had managed to survive. 

"The military wants you to train them?" Alan asked quietly, after sharing an anecdote about the raptors from Site B. 

"InGen's hoping to find military applications for their technology," Owen said, distaste and distrust in his voice. "They hired me because I'm familiar with training animals for military jobs." 

"Raptors aren't dolphins or dogs, Owen," Alan said. He frowned. "They are similar, I suppose, in the sense that they vocalise and work in packs, but..." he trailed off and sighed. "Do be careful. And never turn your back on them. Figuratively and actually." 

"That's part of my plan." 

"I wish Billy were here, he'd be interested to hear about this," Alan said, smiling a little. "Hell, he'd probably want to go and visit." 

"Would you like to visit?" 

Alan's smile turned bittersweet. "No, thanks. But, I would like to know of your progress, if you can tell me anything about it." 

"Deal." 


	25. After the Island (Jurassic World/Jurassic Park/NCIS, Owen Grady, Claire Dearing, Jethro Gibbs, Alan Grant, mentions  of other characters, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They return to the States. Owen has people waiting for him.

He'd lost his pack, but it seemed like he was finding a new one. 

When he landed in San Diego, he'd been surprised to see Alan and Gibbs standing in the arrivals terminal. They'd obviously realised they were waiting for the same person; they stepped forward together to greet him. Gibbs, his former alpha, pulled him in close and breathed in his scent; he'd done the same, reminding himself he was safe and home by the familiar odor (gunpowder and wood with a hint of bourbon and the wild) in his nose. Alan gave him an understanding smile, a handshake, and a half-hug that was comforting and not overpowering. 

"Switch off," Gibbs advised. "Tony's renting us a place, some of the other survivors are on their way. You're safe." 

He nodded. The only thing that kept him from tearing up in relief was Claire's sudden appearance at his side. 

"Mate?" Gibbs asked. 

"We're still figuring that out," Owen admitted. He introduced Claire to the others, and then asked: "Why did you---"

"Did you think I'd abandon you just because you moved out here? Or went off to do something insane? Doesn't matter, you're still pack," he said, punctuating his words with a gentle slap to the back of Owen's head. 

Owen grinned. "Thanks, Gibbs." 

"Do you two have many bags?" Alan asked. 

Claire sighed and shook her head. "Nothing but what we're carrying." 

"I'll call Sarah and Ian, they might be able to..." 

Owen tuned out Alan's words. He looked around the terminal. Families were grouped together, trying to comfort themselves. They all looked like weary prey, worn out and tired from the ordeal. Gibbs tapped the back of his head. 

"Focus." 

Owen nodded. 

"Seems like only the tough usually survive. You guys must have done solid work to bring back so many visitors," the grey-haired man said quietly. 

"Good instincts. Good teamwork. They hired as many shifters as possible." 

"Could've been real dangerous." 

Owen smirked and arched an eyebrow. Gibbs had the sense to chuckle at what he'd said.

"Alan said Billy's flying out tonight, too. You know him?" 

"I met him when I met Alan," Owen replied. He shrugged. "Good guy. He was with Alan when he went out there a second time." 

Gibbs nodded. "What's gonna happen with the park?" 

"Dunno," Owen replied, frowning. 

He spared a thought for Blue, who was probably all alone. It hadn't looked like the rest of their pack survived, and he mourned for her---and for himself, too. They'd have killed him, probably, eventually, but he'd felt a bond with them; that bond was broken and his heart hurt because of that fracture. 

Claire rubbed his lower back. "Blue's fine," she murmured. 

"She's a pack animal without a pack," Owen said quietly. "She's not fine." 

"You wanna go back and get her?" Gibbs asked. 

Owen snorted. "Somehow, I don't think that'd work out... for anyone." He sighed. "I don't like the idea of her all alone, though." 

Gibbs' phone beeped. The older man spared a glance at the screen as Alan returned to them. 

"Tony's sent the address. He rented a small cottage on the beach. For a week, to start, but he can book it for at least another if you decide to stay," Gibbs explained. "Alan, you want to drive with us?" 

"Sounds good." 

Claire smiled a little. She turned her head and waved to her nephews, who were with their mother, her sister. Owen did the same. They'd already said good-bye to the boys, but he couldn't resist one more look at Gray and Zach---just to make sure they were okay. They weren't shifters---Claire was the only one of her siblings to inherit the genes, and to date it hadn't seemed like the boys would take after their grandfather---but he still felt protective of them. 

"C'mon. Let's go. Tony's cooking." 

Owen hoped that meant Tony was ordering pizza. The cop was a disaster in the kitchen. 


	26. Kind of Like a Root Canal (Jurassic World, Owen Grady, Claire Dearing, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt; my take on Owen's and Claire's first date.

For martoni, who asked for Owen and Claire's first date. Thanks for the prompt :) 

I was going to post this as a chapter in the ficlets, but it turned out a bit longer than I thought it would. So, I'm posting it as its own story. You can find my take on Claire's and Owen's crummy date [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4307331). 


	27. Have the dragons returned? (The Hobbit/Jurassic Park, Thranduil, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil finds peace and seclusion on an island; and then that peace is destroyed when people come to the island... with large beasts.

He'd gone there because he had once heard a group of primitive (to him) people discuss the lonely islands and he'd had enough of the Age of Man to last him several more lifetimes. 

For so many years that he lost count, he lived off the land. He built homes, he cultivated plants, he fished. He built weapons to protect himself from the more dangerous wildlife. He forwent clothing whenever possible and learned to live with darker skin. He did things he never had to do as the Elvenking; he did things he never had to do when he lived among men. 

He remembered his family. He remembered those he loved. 

But, he never went back and he never regretted his decisions. 

His peace was interrupted by ships. And then large, mechanical flying... things. And then people and construction and so much noise. 

Some of his gardens and crops were destroyed. 

And then there were the beasts. 

Creatures he'd never seen before---some of which reminded him of the serpents of the North---were populating the island. 

He'd had to make sharper weapons. Even if they seemed contained by fences, he still encountered one or two of the beasts on his daily travels. 

He'd also had to learn to avoid the devices the men had affixed to trees and walls and posts. They were all-seeing, he learned (the hard way); after inspecting one of them, he'd spent hours avoiding a team of men who had spoken of seeing him on their patrol. 

His life had been a calm and quiet existence. They made it more dangerous. 

And then there was a storm. 

And his life became even more dangerous, without the barriers to keep the worst of the beasts contained. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I might revisit this. I may have a little snippet of an idea, of Thranduil trying to deal with the raptors.)


	28. A peak in the private playroom... (The Hobbit RPF, Lee Pace/Luke Evans + OFC, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the middle of a scene with two handsome tops...

"You did some exquisite work, love," the man in the corner of the room said quietly, his accented voice a little gruffer than it had been when I'd been introduced to the pair. 

Even though his voice was soft and even though I was nearly completely rope drunk from the secure suspension that had me hanging from the ceiling, I could hear the pride in his voice. 

I heard footsteps before I heard them kiss. 

"Thanks," the man who had done the tying murmured. 

There were more footsteps and then I felt a hand---one belonging to the man who tied me up, after the last hour I'd recognise those fingers anywhere---in my hair. It rubbed my scalp, tangling in my soft curls before pulling and arching my head up. 

He looked kind---they both did---but I recognised the steely glint of top space in his eyes. 

"Open your mouth," he instructed. 

I obeyed. 

He slipped a bar covered in leather into my mouth before securing its straps behind my head. 

"Remember," he said quietly, "one snap is for yellow, and three is for red." 

I nodded and wiggled my fingers. 

He smiled. "Good girl." 

The slightly shorter of the two, having vacated his chair in the corner, grinned as he put an arm around his partner's waist. I watched him as he put his free hand on the face of the one who tied me; he guided his companion to him, pressing their lips together, parting them with his tongue, devouring and being devoured in turn. 

They only stopped when I whimpered. 

Both men turned, their swollen lips curving into matching smirks. 

The taller man, the one who tied me, nudged the other and asked, "What will you start with?" 

"The deerskin flogger with the thick tails, the one you love so much," the other replied, "and the dragon tongue you gave me for my birthday." 

He gave a little shiver. The other chuckled. 

"All set, pet?" 

I nodded. I hadn't known what to expect when I went to the club that night---certainly not them---but I was not complaining. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always feel a bit funny when I write RPF. (Edit: Not that I have a problem with it!) But, my brain went on safari this afternoon and gifted me with an image of something like this, and I wanted to put it into words before it (or just in case it) flitted away. So, I feel like I need to put a disclaimer up, like I'm not trying to suggest anything about their private lives, and the scene in my head was non-sexual (because kink can be delicious without sex, too!), so my aim wasn't to be disrespectful of anyone's orientation, whatever it may be. Platonic rope and impact, yay! /ramble

**Author's Note:**

> I'm running a little low on inspiration. If anyone wants to suggest a prompt, leave it in the comments, and I'll give it a try :)


End file.
